Infante
by KminkPhantom
Summary: He left. He never meant to return, but... Orders are orders, after all. Still, he wondered why she liked sitting on his couch so much. Minor ZaGR, maybe, eventually. No other pairings otherwise.
1. Prologue

**It's been a LONG time since I've written anything IZ related. I don't know from what depths of my brain this idea crawled out of but I'd call this... a generic IZ fic on the outside... but it gets really weird as you delve into it? That's what I think. I doodle a lot of spoiler art for this on my dA, which is minkerdoodle. Link on my profile, I believe.**

**As the summary states. Eventually minor MINOR ZaGR. Unless I change my mind and make it a bit more. Who knows. ****So. Short prologue to warm us up to this... **

**I own nothing. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

When he saw a small white notebook wrapped up with a leather strap at the bookstore in town, he knew he had to have it. It was the perfect surface to draw the symbol of his secret organization on the front, an eyeball surrounded by a thin circle. He did it with the special black pen he'd bought. It was perfect… Now he just needed a use for the thing.

That use had walked into the classroom that one fateful day, around two weeks later.  
>Dib marked the date neatly in the upper right hand corner.<p>

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><p><em><strong>March 30th, 2001<strong>_  
><em>This isn't going to be a journal. I'm making it into a log. A log… Of my progress against the extraterrestrials invading planet Earth!<br>I heard them, months ago, over a signal I tracked into deep space. They were going to invade, they said. And one of them is here, now! In my very classroom!  
>No one believed me when I stated this truth aloud, however. Like they've ever believed me before.<br>Mark my words, I'm gonna expose the little rat. The alien scum. I'm naming this book my ZiMLog. I'm sure it'll fill up fast!_

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><p>Dib shut the book and wrote this title on the cover. Adrenaline from chasing ZiM across town coursed through him, and he reopened the book to continue.<p>

_Notes:_

_-He's very short. Passes as a kid.  
>-The alien is quite agile. He ran pretty fast.<br>-His skin is green for crying out loud!  
>-Lack of ears and nose. Something he is hiding must be used for these senses.<br>-Speaks English just fine. May have a translator somewhere.  
>-His base is pretty well defended. Gotta find weak points.<em>

Dib sighed, shutting the book and tucking it away in a drawer, before contacting the eyeballs about the events. He figured it was going to be a long ride with ZiM, and he was getting on, prepared or not. This logbook was going to be the utmost of professional logbooks, so he could submit it as proof someday. With the little doodles of ZiM that would end up all over the cover... Yes, they'd be astounded by the cold hard facts that would be placed in this book.  
>Except that sort of… didn't happen. The ZiMlog became... more of a complaint box for the young Dib.<p>

—  
>A teenage Dib shut the book and let out a similar sigh after reading that first entry. It was mid-July in 2006, and he was shut up in the dark coolness of his room, avoiding the dry heat outside, the ozone layer ever depleting. Next month he'd be starting junior year, which everyone knew was the hardest year of high school that one could schlep through, with SATs looming in the distance. Not that he cared much about that now, he was reminiscing, at the moment. This past March had been the sixth year anniversary of his meeting of the small green alien… who… well… hadn't been so small by the end of it.<p>

ZiM had departed without a word two years previously, back at the end of eighth grade. Perhaps he wasn't prepared to face the troubles of hi-skool, and simply gave up. Perhaps he'd been called back. Maybe, there'd been danger, or he'd run out of supplies, or…

Dib didn't try too hard to determine a reason. He tried hard to keep his thoughts off the alien, but it drifted into his mind now and again. When ZiM had left... it had been Dib's final victory against the green creature, although a bit of an anticlimactic one. Ah well. Not that it mattered. No one changed their opinions on his state of sanity when ZiM decided to pick up and leave. Everyone had just assumed the alien had moved away.

He figured, July drawing closer to the end, August marking the beginning of skool, he would begin reading an entry a day, these entries that his ten to thirteen year old self had written. None of them were very long. A bit painful, looking back on this messy primary-school handwriting, and the eagerness of his younger self made him smile weakly, as he found himself losing such vigor as the years went by. Dib cracked his knuckles and shut the drawer that he had laid the book inside, turning to his computer. Killing time with videos took his mind off of things. Maybe he'd watch the Mars rover video feed, just… one last time? Mars had managed to auto-pilot itself back to where it belonged eventually, after all.

He brought up the four cameras, the last one had been repaired by ZiM's robot last time it had broken down, and Dib settled back in his chair, pushing his glasses up on his nose. The paleness of his skin showed that this was all he did, a quiet shut in who just observed, never really acted. Not anymore.

A shooting star streaked past one of the cameras. It headed in the general direction of Earth, but Dib doubted it would make any damage even if it did crash land. He didn't think about the fate of mankind too much, anymore. There wasn't anything around to protect it from. If ZiM returned, perhaps… he'd…

No, no. No time for nostalgic thoughts. Back to his daily rounds of checking news and blogs and video uploads. Just the daily grind. Kept him from thinking too much, from observing too closely… like for instance, he had missed an important question he _should _have been asking himself.

Why was the shooting star strange and wobbling... and why was it _purple_?

_Two years ago..._

The cardboard box's contents rattled in the tiny robot's metal hands as he skipped across the dark lab, into the small purple spaceship. Placing the box in the ship with a squeak, he saluted whoever was in the pilot seat, and then zoomed backwards with his rockets, screaming, to get the last of the cargo. ZiM barely noticed GIR's shrieks as he brought their things into the Voot, and he recalled another time he had been packing like this, only to be halted by the disgusting Dib-thing. With fingertips pressed together, ZiM struggled to keep his eyes open, and sniffed wearily. Three years and a few months on Earth had worn him out considerably, and he was growing older, and sicker. Not that the problem couldn't easily be solved, he was headed back to Irk for medicinal treatment. If they were even allowed to give it to him, that is. Well. No good thinking about that at present. There was a message he needed to record…

ZiM stood after recording his message, shaking slightly, and marched pointedly out of the Voot, down, out into the open air. He could smell Earth summer in the wind, it was a few weeks away, and the skool children were growing restless as his and Dib's eighth grade year drew to a close. And their restlessness made him restless as well. He was going to wait it out until skool closed, but his sickness was becoming a bit too much to bear. He'd had to stop and double over, dry heaving, a few times on his way through the house. ZiM plastered his recorded message to one of the walls of the neighboring houses, and began his trek back to the Voot.

GIR was sitting atop the ship when he arrived, squeezing his moose plush. The robot let out a high pitched chuckle before he caught sight of his master, to whom he waved. ZiM walked right into the Voot without a word to his minion, almost hitting his head on the way inside, as he'd not been paying attention. It was these human viruses, they were making him woozy and dazed. Who knew that an Irken could catch the flu, but was immune to all forms of the common cold?

Still, he ducked and coughed again, settling back down in the pilot's seat. He wasn't used to having to duck. Among the sicknesses, the humans had also granted him some inches in height, not _too _many, he was still the shortest kid in the grade, coming in at a bit shorter than 5 feet, but enough to fit in. Though the high protein foods of the humans—meat and beans—never agreed with him, the "healthy" human nutrients he managed to stomach, over a period of adaptation. Apparently, these green foods were what made the stupid creatures so much taller than himself. He'd evened out at the height he was now, and it made him all the more sure of his superiority over the humans. But that wasn't important at the moment, either.

"GIR!" He called out, his voice a bit grainy. "Get in here! We're going." The SIR unit zipped into the Voot, and the door closed behind him. He gave the Irken a firm salute, with glowing red features, before plopping down on the floor and continuing his business with his moose.

ZiM punched coordinates into the console, and the ship closed up in the back, the ramp retracting inwards. The roof opened, and the cruiser hovered a bit above the glowing building that the Irken had called his humble (well, maybe not so humble) abode for three years. With a couple more buttons pressed, the house deconstructed itself, and ZiM didn't even care to stay and watch it do so, he swerved the ship sharply one hundred and eighty degrees, and ascended upwards. Covered by the shadows of the Earth evening sky, he spied Dib on his roof, taking notes with his telescope, facing the other direction.

The Irken settled his gaze on the human as he flew by silently, but could not cast him a long look. That was his enemy, unaware of his departure. That was good. Time to move onward. ZiM didn't want to set his sights on the disgusting filth ball of Earth ever again, especially not the big headed Dib-monster. The thought of ever returning to this place made him gag and retch, and he covered his mouth with a gloved hand to stop himself from vomiting violently. Perhaps he was being overdramatic. Maybe he was just too sick. But it honestly disgusted him, the idea of after _finally _getting away, having to go back. _Disgusting._

He wouldn't have to worry about that, though. This planet was clearly not in the interests of the Irken Empire. There was always… maybe… he could request a new position back on Irk. Something to really convince the Tallest of his worth. His final chance, he supposed, after the lack of success on this one, after the shocking revelation he'd come to know a year previously.

ZiM didn't turn back his head to watch the retreating blue ball behind him. Nothing to behold there. Nothing worth it there. Nothing to gain. Simply… nothing to return to.

Perhaps.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Oddly enough this is around 600 words shorter than the prologue. Ah well. Enjoy.**_

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><p><em><strong>April 6th, 2001<strong>__  
>ZiM's lack of activity is bothering me already. He is obviously still growing accustomed and planning, as he is new to the planet. Although, I witnessed him 'hanging out' with Keef today. Trying to blend in, huh, ZiM? Huh? Huh?<em>

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><p>He'd been gone for a little while now. Not that it was very strange. He tended to disappear for a few days on occasion, for whatever his stupid reasons were. Not that it wasn't suspicious, but give him a few more days… a few more weeks… a few more… month…s….<p>

Dib gripped his thick ZiMLog while he sat at his desk. He didn't dare to pry into the alien's business when he disappeared, anymore. It usually wasn't something important. ZiM'd probably tripped down the stairs and fallen unconscious for a few days. Still, Dib couldn't help but wonder. Wonder why the Irken had seemed to give up, a year ago, back in seventh grade. He'd gotten just a bit quieter. Still loud, still always spitting insults, but he lacked the old vigor.

And then there had been the real oddity:

Gaz.

His sister had stopped coming home after school the past few months. A little fifth grader out there on her own had made him anxious, but he knew his sister could protect herself. Still, Dib had worried. He worried endlessly. Pushed it down, didn't ask her, to avoid a beating. On month three of her absence, she didn't return home all night, instead of coming home late, she didn't at all. Showed up the next morning. Dib could hardly contain the bubbling mix of anger and concern that he felt in his gut.

The next afternoon, Dib had followed her.

Right to ZiM's house. Wait. What?

He swore his jaw had dropped to the sidewalk when she just walked up the alien's yard without a single laser firing her way. She had slammed the door behind her, not being stealthy in the slightest. She'd… she'd been willingly walking into ZiM's house for weeks, Dib realized, then and there. He couldn't wrap his head around why. He almost questioned her about it, almost blew up, but her dark foreboding stare stopped him. Dib knew his sister, by now. Still, when she was out he checked her room for any bugs and kept staring her down at the dinner table, trying to make sure no experiments had been performed on the girl. She was _just a girl!_

And ZiM's disappearance correlated with Gaz returning home on time… so… Dib really wondered where the Irken had been. Still. What he really wanted to know was the reason, about his sister. Why? What could she possibly want? If it was just to get away from him, then...

Why _ZiM's _house?

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><p><em><strong>April 8th, 2001<strong>__  
>Keef has gone pretty much bonkers. His eyes are all red. He holds a dead squirrel in his hands all day long. What did the alien do?<br>-Powers of hypnosis?  
><em>_-Does he possess these?_

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><p>He'd fallen asleep at the controls. Nearly bumped into the Massive. WAIT! The Massive? He was… here? That was faster than expected. He was fully awake now, and jerked his head up, and he grunted in surprise.<p>

ZiM had left Earth around three months previously, and he'd managed to accidentally stumble across his leader's army of war ships, the Irken Armada. He'd expected a journey that was double what he'd done so far, so this was a nice surprise, to say the least. Well. Somewhat nice.

He had planned to go back to Irk. He wasn't sure about facing the Tallest, just yet. Not after what had happened last year. The Irken shook his head to clear the doubt away. No! He was an Irken Invader, even if barely, he _was _one. He could not hesitate. The light on ZiM's console was already flashing, signaling a call from the Massive. They were obviously wondering what he was doing, who he was, and where he was headed. He was in an Irken Voot, after all. A unique one, as he'd built it himself. He wondered if that would give him away.

Still, he accepted the transmission and sat up straight in his seat when the Tallest appeared on screen. However, he didn't salute. The two blinked their eyes wearily at him, they were waiting for one. But ZiM wasn't prepared to give them one. Not yet.

"Ahem." The Irken cleared his throat. "My Tallest. I had no idea you were in the area. Sorry about the intrusion, I must be on my way back to Irk, n—"

"That's an invader uniform you're wearing," Purple rudely interrupted, a straw hanging out of his mouth. ZiM wondered what kind of soda he was drinking—don't get distracted, now.

"And you're waaaay too far out to be just going back to Irk." Red added. They were suspicious. He knew they would be. He would have to weasel his way out of—

"You wanna ride?"

ZiM's antennae perked up in surprise. "Wha…?"

"Yeah, I don't know you, soldier, but you look tall-ish, so why not?" Purple gave a shrug. ZiM had never seen his leader so lenient before. It... occurred to him, something so impossibly horrible, he thought he would be sick (or maybe he was just nauseous, it could be unrelated). Perhaps they were like this with real… tall… Invaders… they talked to him as if he was on their level. They hadn't before because... well. Things had been different back then.

And they didn't recognize him. That was a bonus. He wouldn't call himself tall by _human _standards, but for Irken standards, it wasn't half bad. ZiM hung up the call—still without saluting—and revved up the engine as the Massive opened up its docking station.

The ship was exactly as he remembered it from his brief glances of the thing, and the blueprints of it he had studied…. In order to take control… no. Bad memories. Though the door to his Voot opened dramatically with a satisfying amount of smoke, ZiM himself stumbled out of the ship, holding his head, his eyes unfocused. The Irken was getting pretty tired of being sick. It wasn't something life threatening, he was just so sluggish. His head hurt and felt like it was full of the sickening human goo called mucus. But he knew it wasn't, because he wasn't human. He had to stop comparing things to human culture. He wasn't on Earth anymore, no one out here would understand it.

But now, standing up for the first time in three months had him feeling almost dead. He really had exposed himself to too much human for too long, and now it had sit in the enclosed ship with him for a while... ZiM had never felt so sick and dying in his entire life. He couldn't see, or hear, or smell. He could barely feel the ground beneath his feet. Maybe it wasn't there...

ZiM stumbled so much that he slipped on the side of his boot and fell over, and through the rushing noise in his head, all he could hear was GIR's high pitched mournful wailing. An arm caught him, a small, stout Irken was holding him up, pulling him up to his feet, but ZiM couldn't see him. His vision was blurring, fading in and out around the edges…

"ZiM?" He could hear a voice say. Maybe it was the short guy in front of him… mmmmaybe… it was… his own thoughts calling him to wake up… "Hey, ZiM, snap out of that. You okay?" ZiM shook his head in response.

"No, I think… I… eeuugh…"

He collapsed on the floor in a heap, unconscious.


End file.
